


Fire in your Eyes

by snoaz



Category: Pocket Monsters SPECIAL | Pokemon Adventures, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Ruby & Sapphire & Emerald | Pokemon Ruby Sapphire Emerald Versions
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 05:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3716101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snoaz/pseuds/snoaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ruby and Marge meet again. Magmajewelshipping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire in your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I love Marge, and her relationship with Ruby is one of my favourite in the manga. Personally I prefer it over Franticshipping, their dynamic is just so interesting. 
> 
> In honour of ORAS I'm posting this fic here as well. The writing has been retouched in places, hope you'll enjoy!

 

Her eyes shone like rubies, aflame and wild. She always had had that look to her, he thought – as though she were living on the edge.

He remembered her words, that life had to be ‘exciting’. It had resulted in participation in Hoenn’s biggest natural catastrophe since mankind. The irony he felt when remembering last year’s events almost made him smile; but in a very tart way. To think that the woman who had released Groudon from its slumber for the sole reason of personal entertainment, had later helped him fight those very same forces – it could be called the inimitable twists of fate.

Of course, she had paid for her wrongdoings and now lived a new life full of berries and ribbons and brushed Pokémon fur (like _him,_ he thought with a sparkling in his eyes) – but that didn’t stop him from receiving a figurative blow to the stomach the moment he saw her again.

She stood with her full length in the centre of the contest hall, her shoulders drawn backwards and her chin slightly lifted – looking about her with an air of arrogance and pleasure, as though the place belonged to her. He couldn’t make out her eyes well enough, nor her mouth – but he knew there was a small smile tugged around the corners of her lips; a sparkling in her dark irises. A forebode of exciting things, of action, of triumph.

 _Triumph_ , he thought wryly. _Only because I’m not participating._

In a flash of light she sent out Ninetales, still her best and most-trusted companion. With a supple turn in mid-air it landed on its four legs, body stretched and muscles tightened; a model of rigidly controlled power. Hot flames spurted from its wide-opened mouth. They circled the Pokémon and the stage in a never-ending string of fire: red, gold, orange, bronze – minuscule flammable dots burning and scorching the air. Even in the audience, safely distanced from the scene, the heat slammed his face. He had to suppress a smile, one that was a little nostalgic and a little awestruck at the same time.

 

 

_(“What do you think… is the most beautiful thing of all?”_

 

… _the all-engulfing claws of fire, grabbing, burning its foe, until all that remains is a pile of ashes for the wind to blow away and scatter above the lands..._

 

 _You_.)

 

 

She was leaning against the wall. Slowly, in a movement of deliberate calmness that differed in many ways from her usual passion, she stroked the purple ribbon in her hand: one calm finger; two. Her face betrayed a happiness that was more truth than lie, a small smile on her lips. No trace of scathe.

He walked over to her, self-assured and firm as if it was the right – the _only_ – thing to do. It wasn’t every day that you saw an old acquaintance (friend, ally) again, he told himself.

“That was a beautiful performance, Marge.”

She turned to look at him; and if she was surprised, she didn’t show. Her movement had been a bit too fast, perhaps, and her eyes twinkled a little more than usual – but then again, she always had been one for assertiveness.

“Ruby! I hadn’t seen you in the audience.” ( _Lies_ , it flashed through his mind.)

“…you’ve trained your Ninetales and Swellow well.”

“They’ve always been trained well,” she pointed out, a finger trailing her cheek. “They’re wonderful Pokémon on their own account, I just gave them the extra push needed.”

“Ah, you’re right about that.” He sighed in a contented way, remembering Mimi and Zuzu and all his other wonderful Pokémon – wonderful: not because of him, but by themselves. He kneeled down before the fox-like creature and reached out a hand, intending to touch the soft fur – before a hiss and a set of bared teeth made him swiftly retreat his arm.

“She doesn’t like you,” Marge observed.

“I saw that,” he replied in an even tone, leaning back on his arms. “I wonder why…?”

“Oh, she’s never been that fond of strangers,” the ex-admin answered, lowering herself to pat the Pokémon’s head. “It’s part of her personality.”

Ruby watched Marge stroke Ninetale’s fur: slowly, gently, a light smile on her lips. “What kind of Pokéblocks do you give her?”

Marge looked away from her Pokémon, regarding him with a scornful expression on her face. “Do you think I'm doing something wrong?”

“I… was just wondering what flavour you fed her,” he said in low tone, an automatic reflex of keeping his posture when confronted with gazes like hers.

“You think you know better.” She smiled a little compassionately and shook her head. “I may have done things wrongly in the past, Ruby, but when it comes to my Pokémon I _know_ I do the right thing. I don’t need your advice.”

“I wasn’t lecturing you,” he said in an indignant voice, coming to his feet. “I was just asking because you are a coordinator. Like me.”

She was silent for a moment, regarding him with unreadable eyes. Then she chuckled. “I’m sorry; sometimes my old side gets the better of me. It’s hard to accept criticism or help, how neatly wrapped it may be.” She sighed and reached for her pocket as she also came to her feet, fishing a strip of bubble-gum from it. He suddenly wondered why he hadn’t noticed before that she hadn’t been chewing on her always-present gum (they had been inseparable like charcoal and fire: causing him to never see a package without thinking of black, black eyes) but then thought that perhaps it was a habit she had forsworn – like a thrown-away costume, a means to bury a life that lay behind you.

Maybe he had reawakened that desire in her.

( _Or not_.)

She gave him a questioning look, as if to ask if he wanted some as well, but he declined politely. He’d never liked the rubber taste of it in his mouth, like something was trying to plaster his palate with a substance too tight to be pleasurable. She put the sweet in her mouth, closing her eyes momentarily and wordlessly relishing the taste. Then she said, “She likes bitter Pokéblocks.”

Ruby smiled. “For a beautiful Pokémon.”

“Indeed,” she repeated, smiling back at him in an almost warm way. “For a beautiful Pokémon.”

They both regarded the Ninetales in front of them, admiring its fur and its dark eyes with the eyes of connoisseurs.

“Do you brush her fur with a long comb, to let the natural gloss come out?”

“Yes, with this one.” She bowed down and rummaged through her bag, extracting a black brush. He took it and examined it, his eyes alight: talking about Pokémon, about contests, about all the things that came with it – it caused an uncontrollable joy within him.

“How are your Pokémon?”

He smiled brightly as his team came to mind. “Perfect! They’re beautiful; cool; smart; tough and cute – with their dazzling charms and moves, they win every contest they enter.”

She chuckled at his speech, eyeing him with amused eyes. “I should be glad you didn’t enter today then, shouldn't I?”

He made a modest gesture, contradicting the pleased look on his face.

“Oh, but I already knew all that, of course. I would be a fool if I didn't. You did very well this year in contests.” He looked at her with wide eyes, too stunned to give a reply. She laughed some more, amused by his surprise. “I followed you around, Ruby. Not literally, since I had to focus on my own training – on my new life. I just kept track of your accomplishments in the papers. ”

She heaved a sigh that was a bit bitter and a bit envious at the same time. “Adjusting to a quiet way of living isn’t that easy, Ruby. Not as easy as it looks.”

“But you’ve done it, right?” Ruby said, holding her gaze. She didn’t answer right away. She just stared in the distance, as though remembering events that had been reduced to memories over time.

“…yes, I’ve done it,” she murmured after a while, chewing her gum slowly. “But sometimes I can’t help but ask myself if it all was the right thing to do.”

“Huh?” He stared at her with an incredulous expression. “What do you mean? How can a life with contests _not_ be better than your previous life? A life consisting of… _crime,_ ” he spat out in a more forceful tone than he'd intended to.

She regarded him with an expression bordering on boredom, blowing a bubble with her gum. “That's not all there is to it,” she stated in a matter-of-fact way. “You mustn’t think I don’t regret some of my past actions.”

When she saw his unbelieving expression, she let the pink bubble burst with a pop. A small chuckle escaped her mouth, the corners slightly turned upwards. “You’re still as distrustful as back then, I see. Can’t say I’m surprised. But really – joining Team Magma turned out differently from what I had thought. Not in every way,” she added, in answer to his incredulous expression. “But the ending was something I had not foreseen – and something I wouldn’t want to let have happened.”

Ruby was silent for a while, and then gave her a warm smile. “But I know that, Marge. You offered your help to me, after all, on Mirage Island.”

“…you remember.” A light smile appeared on Marge’s face as well, and it was as different from the mocking one she had sported moments before as water and fire.

“Of course I do,” he replied with a broad grin, looking at her as though she were an old friend that needed reassurance. He planted his hands in his side, as though a firm posture should give him more safe ground beneath his feet. The expression he regarded her with, was the same one he wore when he had perfected a move or when he saw his Pokémon in full glory. A happy, a proud one.

“I'd heard you suffered from amnesia,” she subtly replied.

His bright expression transformed into a stunned one within seconds, his mouth moving but no sound coming out. Again, she laughed.

“A very selected one, hm? Has that anything to do with that girl you like?”

When he blushed, looking more uncomfortable than ever, she mused, “So it has. I envy her...”

Ruby didn’t know how to reply. She'd said the same thing back on Mirage Island – but how much of it was the truth? He stared at his shoes, embarrassed and unable to think of the right thing to say. Marge didn't seem to mind. She just regarded him with dull eyes that had once glowed brightly, blowing another bubble with her gum. The silence ensued until she clacked her tongue, making the bubble burst.

“You are still young, Ruby. You have a future ahead you.”

He looked up, unsure and questioning. “You're young as well – ”

“No.” She smiled in a bitter way, shaking her head. “I’ve had my youth. Be careful not to make the same mistakes as I did.”

He looked her in the eye, deep – and understood what she meant. “I will,” he said sincerely.

“Good.” She stepped forward and touched his shoulder. A chill travelled down his spine. “You’re still just a boy...”

“I’m – ”

She shook her head. “You should be with her. That’s how it is.”

He closed his mouth again and did not speak. He just looked at her, feeling a sentiment of loss and remorse that he couldn’t quite place – something nagging in his stomach, a dull throb in his heart.

“Good-bye, Ruby. I hope we meet again.” She smiled at him, turning to leave; but bowing down in the last second, kissing him softly on the cheek. Her breath warmed his face, heating his body. Then, she turned on her heels and walked away. Ninetales swayed its tail and trotted after her, both silent.

Ruby was rooted on the spot, watching her leave. The print of her lips still burned his cheek, and it was as though her mouth had paralysed him instead of giving him new fervour – before a sudden thought made him speak up.

“Hey, Marge – if we’ll ever face each other in a contest, don’t think you’ll stand a chance!”

She turned around, a laugh etched on her face. “Who knows. Life has its unexpected ways.”

And with that, she walked on – out of his vision, out of his life.

 

 

_(Every time he went on stage, he hoped he’d see her again. But he didn‘t. She stayed an illusion in his memory, like an ever-increasing and quenching flame.)_

 


End file.
